My Rose of a disability

Image Description A pink rose with rain drops by Michelle Steiner

Roses are like learning disabilities  gorgeous  but look out for the thorns. My life with a learning disability has been beautiful, and painful as well. I have experienced the beauty of success and happiness in life along with the thorns.  Connecting with other roses, and learning how to care for it has helped me to accept my disability and find joy in life.

Roses come in a rainbow of colors, and types. Each rose also symbolizes something different. For example red ones mean love and yellow ones represent peace. Each rose may be different, but they are still each a flower. Learning Disabilities, also come in a wide variety of types and forms. Some learning disabilities make it difficult to read, or speak. Other types of them make it hard to do math, read the face of a clock, or write. Even if an individual has the same type, everyone will experience it uniquely. Finding peer support has helped me to be able to share similar experience's and not feel alone with having one. Connecting with those who have opposite types has also helped me, by giving me another perspective.

Roses also require a different type of care to grow. People who grow them have to tend to them carefully with patience, as they are not the easiest flower to bloom. Finding ways to learn, live and grow have not always been easy for me. I had to look for new ways to learn new information and much repetition. I also had to give myself patience in learning new things and in completing tasks. I also needed to grant myself grace when I failed at something. It was also important to develop resilience, to find a different way to grow after a set back. 

Acknowledging the thorns has also been powerful in healing. I have  endured the pain of thorns that pierced my tender flesh. Some of the sharp thorns have pierced my skin, and caused me to bleed. May of those wounds have caused red scars, that have faded to pink. Other ones have burrowed deeply hidden in my flesh and still remain. If I press too hard, they are still sore. In order to protect my self from the thorns, I may need to wear garden gloves and find ways not reinjure myself. Developing coping skills, and engaging in hobbies  I love helps to to protect me from the stab. 

Not everyone has seen the beauty of the my disability. I have had others who have thought I did not have the potential to grow and stomped on my bloom. Despite the damage, I did not crumble, but instead bloomed further. I also have had others who thought despite my growth, that I was not blossoming to my full potential. Both extremes have hurt me as the sting of the thorns. I have had to learn I cannot control what others think, but I can be in charge of my actions.

Slowly I am learning to love both the beauty and the pain of the rose of a disability. Connecting with other roses has created more glorious experience. I have met other ones who are like me and the others who are different. We may have different experiences, but we all have the common ground of a disability. Finding new strategies has also been helpful with having one. I cannot trade my rose of disability, for another flower. I simply have to learn to work with the one that I have. Realizing that in the midst of beauty, there is also pain is helpful. I cannot change the past wounds and some still remain. i also cannot avoid pain completely in the future, but I can developing coping mechanisms to help manage it.  Others may not see the beauty and will try to alter it. I will also have others who will not see the potential and try to stunt it's growth. My rose will grow to how it wishes and I have learned to deal with it's pain and beauty.